Pet tales: Chloë and Clio, rescue cats

Chloë and Clio are independent cats, with distinct personalities.

All right, but I don’t want big, butch cats,” said my husband, agreeing that we needed to fill the feline-shaped hole in our house following the death of our much-loved tortoiseshell.

Chloë and Clio, collected from a Cat Protection pen, are as unbutch as it is possible to be. Two little black scraps, they emerged from their basket in our kitchen, ignored the carefully arranged cat beds and disappeared behind the heated trolley in the under-stairs recess. All attempts to coax them out were futile. It was 24 hours before they were brave enough to emerge, and this set a pattern. It is five years since they came to live with us, and our friends are convinced that we are deluded and don’t possess cats at all.

At a ring of the doorbell or the sound of an unaccustomed voice, Chloë leaves home, not returning until the strangers have gone or until everyone has gone to bed. Clio drops in to inspect interlopers, gives them a withering look when they try to be friendly and exits, with her tail held high.

Chloë is a comfort eater; Clio is a skinny little waif, but when the big neighbourhood feline bully comes around, it is Clio who shrieks and pursues it. Chloë settles for diving under the bed. Meanwhile Clio returns, giving the feline equivalent of a high five at her successful seeing off of the invader.